Back U Is for Undertow
Chapters (38)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. Chapter 1 - Wednesday afternoon, April 6, 1988
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3 - DEBORAH UNRUH
  8. Chapter 4 - Thursday morning, April 7, 1988
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6 - DEBORAH UNRUH
  11. Chapter 7 - Thursday afternoon, April 7, 1988
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9 - WALKER MCNALLY
  14. Chapter 10 - Friday, April 8, 1988
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12 - WALKER MCNALLY
  17. Chapter 13 - Monday, April 11, 1988
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15 - JON CORSO
  20. Chapter 16 - Wednesday, April 13, 1988
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18 - JON CORSO
  23. Chapter 19 - Wednesday afternoon, April 13, 1988
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21 - DEBORAH UNRUH
  26. Chapter 22 - Thursday night, April 14, 1988
  27. Chapter 23 - Friday afternoon, April 15, 1988
  28. Chapter 24 - WALKER MCNALLY
  29. Chapter 25 - Monday, April 18, 1988
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27 - JON CORSO
  32. Chapter 28 - Wednesday afternoon, April 20, 1988
  33. Chapter 29 - WALKER MCNALLY
  34. Chapter 30 - Wednesday evening, April 20, 1988
  35. Chapter 31 - JON CORSO
  36. Chapter 32 - Thursday, April 21, 1988
  37. Chapter 33 - Thursday, April 21, 1988
  38. EPILOGUE

“I’ll tell you who,” Stacey said. “Amateurs, that’s who. Which is why they never tried it again. The second kidnap blew up in their faces and that was the end of it. Two career criminals cured of the urge. Speaking of which, I’m out of here. You come up with anything good, you can wake me later on.”

“I have a question before you go,” I said. “Have either of you ever run across a Lompoc PI named Hale Brandenberg?”

Stacey said, “Sure, I know Hale. He started out about the same time I did, only he was younger by a goodly number of years.”

“You think he’s still around?”

“Last I heard. You want to talk to him?”

“I’d love to. It’s not about this case. It’s something else.”

“Let me make a few calls and see if I can find out where he ended up.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

Saturday morning I slept in until 8:00, a luxury for me. My breakfast meeting with Rain was scheduled for 9:00, which gave me time to dawdle over the newspaper and my first cup of coffee. Once I’d showered and dressed, I walked two blocks over to Cabana and two blocks down. On the beach I could see where ropes of kelp had washed up on the sand. The tide was going out and the waves rushed forward and then receded, tugging the gray-green fronds into the depths again. The wind was up and I could see whitecaps ruffling the water beyond the surf. In the harbor the masts of sailboats swayed back and forth in a rhythm of their own. Countless gulls formed a gray funnel cloud and descended on the beach, two of them squabbling over an abandoned cellophane bag half filled with Cheetos. The public swimming pool was still closed for the season and the children’s play area was deserted.

At the entrance to the coffee shop I paused. There was only one young woman at a table alone. She raised a hand and waved, having identified me by the same process of elimination. I indicated to the hostess that I was joining a friend. I slid into the padded Naugahyde booth across from her and signaled to a waitress who was passing with a fresh carafe of coffee. She turned my mug right-side up and filled it.